San Francisco

The night I got back from San Francisco, Denny D looked at me and said, "You look so relaxed! WAY more relaxed than I normally see you." Apparently my calm and happiness threw off some sort of cosmic balance, because between plumbing and work, ever since then life has been non-stop drama!

So fuck living in the moment. Let's take a look back at the weekend that was...

I take different kinds of trips. Some are about the location itself, others are for getting a moment to myself, and a few are about the company. San Francisco was the third type. As such, I don't have much to say about the city, because all I remember is hanging with my boy and getting our party on!

During the day, we did manage to see a few of the sights. There was a view of the Bay Bridge (I think) from our hotel window, but we didn't get a glance at the Golden Gate until we spotted it from the plane on our way home. We did visit Golden Gate Park, though, where we stumbled upon the Tutankhamun exhibit at the de Young museum, which I'm sure I'll remember better this time than when I saw it as a toddler. We wandered the few blocks through Chinatown, and rode the street cars down Market Street both nights.

The tourism was nice, but the best part was the nightlife. We spent our evenings in The Castro.

I can't possibly tell all the stories, describe all the people we met, even remember the names of all the bars we visited. Besides, I'd rather tell it in person. I will say, however, that if Ryan and I lived in The City by the Bay (woh-woh-wohohoh), we'd be regulars at Harvey's. Named after Harvey Milk, it's a really laid-back neighborhood bar. It's exactly the kind of place I love to hang out. You can have a drink, maybe some pub food, chat with your friends, and get to know the bar staff. It's friendly, casual, and of course, a proud gay establishment. It was our starting point each night, and my initiation into the Tuaca Club.

After we'd had our quiet drinks and started feeling feisty, we got our Party on at Badlands. It's the kind of place you can only go if you're a scenester, or if you've had enough to drink that you're not annoyed by scenesters. Even so, booze was relatively cheap, it was always busy, and people were chatty.

We went to various other spots on Castro, but it was always at Badlands that we met the best characters. It was there where Party Ryan became Lady Tatas' hero by pulling toilet paper off her shoe. We had a friend for life. Or at least for the rest of the night.

I guess it comes down to this: In my mind, our trip to San Francisco defies description. But I'll never stop telling all the great stories.

And that is the sure sign of a well spent vacation.